βleeding ϟour Ҫhaos
by JrOeKnEeRe
Summary: Cheeks covered in kohl. Lips bruised. Dress torn. There was no out. It was everywhere. He came closer, I backed away. You could taste that paint, inflamed with it. His mind was anything but blank. Never the same again::Sequel to Carving: JokerxOC
1. White as the Knight

_If you wish, You could totally read this sequel instead of the first. You may be a little lost yet, Don't tell nobody but this one, well, it's a little better than its beginning. Practice makes perfection I guess. Enjoy..._

**.**

**βleeding ϟour Ҫhaos**

**the Sequel **to Carving ϟou

Joker

**Prologue**

**1**

**White as the Knight**

The only thing that made hospitals impossible to sleep in was a constant hallway light. It can somehow go through the blinds, cracks and windows, keeping the patients completely awake to endure their sickness. But this didn't matter because the patient was already wide awake. He's been conscious from the moment he ripped the fluid-filled gauze from his face, never to close his eyes again, not with those nightmare awaiting. The last vision he could recall before the flames consumed his world was her. Her screams are always there, begging for his life, calling out to the one who lit the fire.

Harvey took in a sharp hiss as water fell from his scarred tear ducts and down his tissued cheek. There was no flesh to smoothly guide it, only vulnerable muscle tissue. It didn't stop until falling onto his opened mouth, unprotected by mauled lips.

She didn't love him.

He spent the last few weeks screaming of agonizing pain, misery, anxiety and failure. Gotham's white knight couldn't even save his damsel. What good was having power when it can't stop that one criminal?

He slapped his hand hard onto his hidden blackberry, secretly kept under the sheets from the nurses. Slowly opening the video file without needing to look at the keyboard. Its habit by now, been doing it every night. His thumb slid to the one button that's faded from being a multiple target of rage.

The horizontal triangle flashed across the little screen. Soon after, the video began to play and the small room filled with her screams. The same startling effect that's been his only haunting escape. Not long after finding the tape, the day she fell from the window ledge, he had converted the video onto his phone. Punishment for letting her fall, letting her become _his_.

The Joker appeared, practically sitting on her with the knife ripping the already bloodied skin. Muscles strained and trembled. He watched him finish her shoulder and turn to the camera. Jumping off the table, swaggering closer. "She's mine-" Stop button, giving the phone another crack. The screen created a static error and quickly shut off.

As soon as it does so, the door creaked open with one of the head nurses poking her head in. He smoothly slipped the device back under the sheets and closed his good eye. The other is left to collect dust without the protection of an eyelid.

"Just let me know when you're done," the nurse whispered.

"Thank you."

They entered the room after the attendant closed the door. He could hear them messing with the window blinds, letting in the early morning rays. A stool squeaked across the waxed floor, bumping into the bed's metal border.

"I know you're awake."

"What do you want?" Harvey spat.

"What you're hiding."

"Get out."

"You've kept it long enough-"

"I said no."

"You destroyed the tape before we even knew-"

"We're done here."

"Damn it Harvey! You're not the only one-"

"Don't you dare. The only one who loves her? You're the one who let him take her Bruce!"

The metal created a singing note as he kicked the rim with his boot, clenching fists. He flexed his arms down by his side and released the tension. "I'm lost. I've searched through all of Gotham, turned it inside out. No one knows, everyone who went with them are dead. I can't find them. I need to see the video, it may be the one thing that could point me in the right direction."

"No," Harvey knew what he was doing, this repetitious aggression was all he had now.

"Excuse me?" Bruce grits, urging his temper at bay.

"You're not going to be the one to find her, I am."

He held his tongue, steady, hold back. "Harvey, you're in bad shape alright? Recovery is all you need right now. Maybe once you get better. You just can't-"

"Don't tell me what I can't do! You took everything from me and let him finish the rest!"

"You're blaming me for what he did to you?"

"No, I'm blaming you for everything else-"

"He took her on our wedding day!" Bruce growled, rubbing his temples with so much force his skin seemed like a mask's rubbery layer. "I've been as patient and understanding as I can be, but you stand between everything I care about. This is the last piece of the puzzle and it's in your possession. Give me the phone." He watched his hand move under the sheets, thinking he was going to give in. But instead Harvey revealed the remote for the head nurse. Watching his thumb graze across the top. "Don't be like this."

"I'm not," he placed it on the bed and dug for the blackberry. "You want this? Then get me out of here."

"What?"

"You heard what I said. Get the hospital to release me," he pressed the phone into his stomach. "I've watched this video every night Bruce and each time, I learn something new that could lead me to her. You can buy the technology to push the clip to its full exposure. Zoom into whatever you find, clarify the most blurriest object, I don't. I know that. But even without it, I still have the greatest advantage that could place me right at his doorstep. An advantage you will never be able to have. All I need to do is get out of this mattress and you're going to help me do that."

They stare.

Everything he said was true, but not in the way Bruce thought. There was something much more sinister beneath Harvey's "advantage." What did he mean? It didn't matter, he needed the phone.

Because the Joker forgot one thing while he was engraving his property in blood, behind the table was torn paper. Barely visible, poking just above the edge. The only clarity, which drove Harvey into an obsessive viewer, were the letters: C - E C-M- the entire meaning was scratched out either on purpose or from years of studying.

Harvey twitched his thumb towards the call button while Bruce stared at the blackberry. "Fine, I'll talk to the doctors and pay them off," he held out his hand, his jacket sleeve sliding up his arm as he did so. A thick, professional slash poked out from underneath the leather, catching Harvey's attention. Just as he began to wrap his fingers around the phone, Harvey yanked it back.

"What the hell are you playing at?"

"What?"

"That cut on your arm! You found him didn't you? You lost her again!"

Bruce followed his gaze and saw the stinging flesh still reddened from the earlier battle. He should have known to cover it better before coming here. Its color was as vivid against the black leather than it was when he got it. "Harvey-"

"Get out! Get the hell out!"

Before he could reach for the remote, Bruce used his training, snatched the phone and sprinted out the door. Harvey screamed, cursed, raged with all he had but he was too quick. The strap from the hospital bed seemed to tighten across his chest and suffocate. "NO! DAMN YOU!" He'll find a way. Whatever means necessary, he'll take back what was lost from him.

_a/n_

_Few youtube videos and deviant-arts under this story. Because I missed it terribly._

_F e e l s G o o o o D_


	2. Cage of Lace

**.**

**2**

**Cage of Lace**

The lights shimmer from each tall building, blending into one giant blur. It dulls to nothing at the very top just reaching the Gotham hazed sky. Over the dense fog hovering above the large corrupt city. If I could just see a break, I could see the blue. Something beautiful and still. A sharp streak of wind blew up from below instead. The bottom seams of my dress followed, falling with shaky grace back to where it was, hanging over the edge of this eighty story building.

There was just this support, a big sign that had nothing on it. A blank, white sign with its wallpaper torn apart from the years. I haven't done anything in over two weeks, taken a shower, brushed my hair, nothing. How could I when these things were kept from me? I had no supplies of feminine needs. The white color of the dress was now smeared with black ash or whatever cycled the filthy air. It was the only thing I had left of when I was happy. I couldn't let something like that go even if I were given other clothes.

Somewhere below in another part of Gotham there was Bruce and Rachel, lost in the circles that he purposely created for them. He planned everything, made sure no loop had any holes. They couldn't find us even if they had a detailed map of every building in Gotham.

I felt disgusting. Not just because I was literally dirty, but because of what happened after the unplanned wedding. I couldn't remember the drive back or the directions in which this place was. But I can never forget the moment I was carried into a room and left with the sight of a black sheeted bed. He wanted what every bride and groom traditionally desired after their wedding. There was no hiding it, even beneath that rouged mask. It was in his eyes. The way he kicked the door close, turned the lock, tore his tuxedo coat off, every movement showed his salacious lust. My face was damp with dripping mascara. Cheeks were covered with kohl, lips were still red and bruised from his tainted kiss. I can still taste and smell that paint as if my entire body was inflamed with it. He walked closer, I backed away.

Then, out of some twisted perversion he struck forward, taking us both down to the mattress. Its springs were poorly manufactured and poking through the sheets. One nearly slit my ankle while the others actually tore my dress, leaving a long slit. This very pain made me remember, made me want to fight. Unleashed as soon as our eyes were engaged and his hands lingered at the corset's string. I couldn't see his expression, couldn't comprehend what was happening or see what he felt. I lost it. To the point of strangling him, I used everything I had to fight. I thought if I could just take some kind of control, struggle, protect myself, do something, maybe I could find hope enough to breathe, to live stronger. To fight.

Simon burst in, ripped me off him. He lay on the floor, unconscious with a graphic hand mark across his neck. I can still feel his throat throbbing beneath my palms. Ever since, Simon has always been near. Only until night that is. The only time his hidden boss comes is when I'm asleep in my room. Listening to his mumbling, standing over the bed. I still don't understand why he's acting like this. Why would it effect him so much? It would only be natural for me to hurt him in some way. Strangling being the less of the most violent.

"Simon," he pushed away from the access door. "If I were to jump right now, would you have to jump with me? Or do you think he'll be merciful just for you?"

He says nothing, merely places himself on the edge of the roof. Purposely sitting on my gown. Emptily staring with those dark blue colors. "You know, just an inch closer and you could probably sit on my legs. I won't be going anywhere then." He kept the same stare. "Why won't you talk to me?" throwing my hands down clumsily onto the building's crisp corner.

And I forgot to grasp, nearly losing the balance I kept so foolishly. Simon moved fast, snatched my arms, flipped me over his broad shoulder and took us away from the dangerous slide. The adrenaline dissolved away as he kicked the door open, entering through with long strides. The dim lights were placed in rows upon the ceiling. The mob used this place for storing secret files, hostages, weapons, tools of blackmail. It was entirely off the chart.

He soon turned us around with his back facing the door, using his strongest talent to once again kick it open. Setting me down with gentle ease onto the given bed, dragging a stool next to the side and sitting. He grabbed a water bottle from the night stand and leaned in. "Every single person in this world is vulnerable to the one thing that could tear us apart from the inside out. The one thing that's able to consume even the most troubled soul," he stood, throwing the bottle onto my lap and walking to the door.

"What?" stuttered.

"Loneliness," he reached the doorway, turning with an even deeper stare. "He told me."

The cold plastic sent chills. I was left to drift across the room in a dead stare. He spoke. He actually spoke to me. The answer. I've known of it but never wanted to say aloud. And it just glided out from his handsome mouth. I want him to come back.

"Where is she?" an uneasy voice boomed naively through the halls. They stomp, yell, make all the noise they can as they pass my room with a determined pace. Halting as soon as they saw me sitting on the bed, still staring at the wall.

I didn't look up, not until they planted themselves in front. "I-I need you to come with me, I messed up. I messed up a lot and I need you to stop him. He's going to kill me," he mumbled, a horribly disgusting man with large potholes in his face from various drug uses, grabbed my arm

"Let me go," I slapped him away. "I can't do what you want."

"Don't fight me," he says, pulling out a gun. "I-we need to go- Uhm- out in the hall. Yea, that's it. This will work and everything will be fine," schizophrenia clearly showing.

"Where's Simon?"

"I-I don't know, he was with you, but now he's not and now I have you which means-"

"Simon!" I screamed, elbowing him in the gut and taking off.

Before even flying out the door, he had fired two shots. His terrible aim allowing me time to duck after the first and therefore missing the second entirely. "Simon!" I charged the hall, stomping the smooth floor with all my weight to grab someone's attention. "Si-" an arm appeared, pulled me aside and behind them, slammed into a stack of weaponry. Oliver, the schizophrenic, nearly did so into the other armed men.

He point the gun aimlessly but it left his grasp. The Joker was in his way. The gun fell, bouncing twice before stopping completely. Simon met us from a distant room, looking over the situation with an alert gaze.

"Take him," the Joker plainly says. They did. Five men tackled Oliver to the ground and beat him frenziedly. Simon picked up the gun, glanced back to the Joker, who quickly nodded, and then aimed a fresh bullet into the man's chest.

His hard, calloused hand slapped into mine and guided us away from it all. Not towards my room but his. It was much further from mine and on another floor. He punched the elevator button with his fist, cracking a few knuckles and planted his eyes on the dial. Watching it rise towards this floor with a quick bing, the doors open. I rushed in before him and found comfort in its back railing. He merely follows and punches another button to floor 76.

And here we are again. I'm awake, he's coherent and the tension is incredibly strong. I don't like this. So much that one of my many repressed thoughts came. It was such a horribly raw thought but it held too much accuracy and came before I could stop. But it plagued over. This resembled too much like a rape victim encountering her perpetrator months after the incident. The fear and anxiety still remained as strong as it was during that single moment. It always happens. These thoughts, every night, if he would have forced it if I hadn't fought. If I had screamed over and over until my throat bled and lungs gave, would he still have taken what he wanted?

The railing held the same coldness as the water bottle. It's not helping this insecurity. But something disturbing caught hold. Dark liquid seemed to puddle faintly on the floor. He opened and closed his fist with each movement shaking in a painful manner. More fell from his hand as the elevator slowly goes down. I released the railing and edged closer, stepping into his side. His gaze held forward, staring into my reflection in the golden door. Studying each move. I reached out.

"Don't."

Obeying but keeping his hand in sight. "What happened?" The doors opened with an answer. His floor, representing a kind of apartment a blind aristocrat would have the pleasure of living in, had boxes scattered all along the walls. Boxes that looked to be falling apart from top to bottom.

He moved inside, briskly targeting a broken sink with water dripping loudly. I followed him out but stopped just before the doors. He didn't look back, merely reached inside a cabinet, pulled out a white box filled with medical supplies and roughly yanked his coat off with his good arm.

A tug pulled heavily on the dress' train. The end seams soon sweep across the nearest box after hurrying away from its capturing doors. Its lid was forcefully ripped apart but held a beautiful material inside.

I grasped onto it like a child would to satin. Its glamorous appearance drawing them in until they can't bear not to feel what they were seeing. I nearly jumped from the unexpected jingle following after. Little golden coins were sewn artistically to the ends of the blue material, creating the enchanting sound of bells. I knew this. The vintage belly dance belt I fell in love with at a Renaissance Fair.

Beneath the jingling coins, another material, vaguely similar to the one in my hands, still rest in the box. Everything from my entire collection of belts to the unopened instruction tape that taught the art of the dance was roughly thrown together. I bent low now, switching to the next box with the belt pressed against my chest. Books, movies, paintings, envelopes with letters inside, shirts, jeans, bras, everything I owned were amongst the items, from one box to the next and the next. I traveled along the wall, scanning each box with a bedazzled trance.

"Are you going to go through every single one or are you trying to start the hokey poky?" he gently dabbed his wound. Clumps and clumps of dirty rags already resting on the side table.

"Why are these here?" the belt slipped and joined the box with wadded socks.

"Obviously, it's obvious," he scoot a trash can to the table's edge and slid the dirty gauze into it. "Come here."

It's been seventeen days since we've stood this close. He has his strength back and from what I can see with each step, he's gotten stronger. Whatever he plans to do, it won't be gentle. I almost killed him, he knows that and there's no telling what he'll do now.

_a/n_

_I wanted to wait at least a few more days until posting this, but honestly, I couldn't. I couldn't contain it anymore b/c I know how much you wanted it xD_

_Interviewer: Have you started to think about how you will play The Joker?_

_**Heath Ledger**__: Yeah. I've been trying to delay my commitment to the preparation process on that because I'm trying to extend my holiday time. I definitely have an image in my head. I definitely have something up my sleeve. I want to be very sinister. It's so early that I'm trying to be open at this point. I don't want to be glued down to anyone._


	3. No Telling

**.**

**3**

**No Telling**

Don't ask again. Just don't say anything. Of course-

"Why is everything I own in this room-"

"It's not a room, it's an apartment. If you can't tell the difference, we need to get someone's vision checked. Fortunate for you, the only eye doctor in the house is, of course me! So come here and let's take a look at those lovely eye sockets. Spray some good ole saliva in them- What are you doing?"

Yes, I just walked into a wall. Couldn't stand that still, I just- I don't know what's going on. I hate this! So distracted by this cruel anticipation. He's acting as if nothing's wrong. Sure, I'm a little relieved but I just want him to get the rage over with because the anxiety and paranoia is too much.

"You look horrible," he came closer.

Rolling around both our questions, of course it was going to be like this. He was avoiding mine, I was avoiding him. A new bruise was already forming just above the kneecap. I needed to look to be sure.

What am I doing?

Too late.

Nearly stumbling back, he stood close, glued to the revealing skin. I dropped the seams but he caught its descent. "So dirty? You've been living in this for weeks. Not that I'm complaining, you do smell delicious. My favorite perfume, you always know how to turn me on-" he briefly brushed against the new goosebumps.

Much too close to an upper region he needed to be far from. Yanking the dress away, the ends swept across his shoes before flowing right back to my toes.

"Dirty and grumpy. Only you can masterfully portray two of the seven dwarfs-"

"What happened to your arm? Why is my stuff here and why are you acting like what you did, didn't happen!"

"What _I_ did?"

"YES! Everything you did! This is a human you're dragging through your life not some toy!"

Is he clapping?

"Bravo! You've sent me all up in goosebumps! And look! We both have them! But now," he crashed our bodies together, slammed me onto the table, widened my legs and planted himself between them. "That we're more comfortable, I would just like to say your old apartment was not what I was expecting at all. Who pays your bills! Do you have a sugar daddy I don't know about? Brucey perhaps?"

WHACK a sharp resounding blow SLAP an injury to pride BLOW a powerful stroke with the fist

Through any definition, if I knew my hand would hurt this much after doing it, I would have thought twice. But I didn't. He said his name. He had no right. No right to mention that day, that insult, my old life, Bruce. He pushed this too far, facing forward, flexing his jaw. "I didn't deserve that."

"The hell you did."

"Such language! Not in front of the children," he seized a hard grip on my cheek, snapping it towards the boxes. Small stuffed animals, which actually held meaning to me, were all staring at us. Five extremely soft, beautiful little bears the size of grapefruits. Each were given by someone I loved. A childish favor, significance nonetheless. "So," back to his face. "Can't show the little ones mommy and daddy are fighting."

And here it goes.

I kicked his abdomen, he held the foot that did so, twisted it around, took us to the floor and pinned me down.

"You're just one little aggressive girl today aren't you? This is not the way you're going to get your answers questioned," paused, lips pushed forward, squinting in confusion. The red paint was an almost pink hue. He's been licking more than usual.

"Just please, let me go back to Simon. You're not going to answer anything I ask. I need to leave," there was more I was going to say but bit down. I was breathing fire. He breathed coal.

"Do we have to get all touchy right now?"

He's sitting on me, like this, yes touchy. But then it hit me. I was weak. I haven't eaten or slept as much as I should, no wonder the answers were far from obvious. He went to my old apartment, Bruce must have been there, they fought, he escaped and somehow brought these packed boxes here. Bruce was probably taking my things to his penthouse. And there it was, the wound on the Joker's arm was split open by one of the throwing stars.

He was Batman, thank god! Hidden from the Joker beneath the mask.

And he knew it, he saw that I finally understood what happened. "Do you see this?" nearly smacked my nose with his elbow, thrusting the injury into my face. Pus and blood filled the gash to the brim of the bone, it was deep. "This is what I get for Spring cleaning!" The white discharge and red liquid fell. "Oops, so sorry, let's get that off," he brought his tongue out as if to lick it. This is far from how he should be behaving. Bring out the knife, provoke weakness, use smart ass jokes, silent torment. But this, this was disgusting. I felt sick.

"Sir?" someone entered past the elevator.

"WHAT!"

Simon. Oh thank god.

I moved. Somehow managing to squirm beneath, crawl, tumble, push, claw my way out and take off. I didn't care how they'd react, I ran for him. Malnutrition, hygiene, sleep-deprivation. These factors would cause misunderstanding but something clearly isn't right. Neither would he act like this.

I took Simon's thick arm, childishly forced it in front, attached our hips together and slapped the blood away. I was disgusted, tired and yes, afraid. I'm sure he could feel it as well, so resistant.

And he, now standing, stared at us with annoyed impatience. Leaning into the oasis, crossing his arms. "We were in the middle of a discussion. What do you want?" so plainly said yet a frightening undertone there.

"They're here," Simon moved slightly, only for me to follow. He didn't seem to care but wasn't giving support. "In the basement. They're waiting."

"Si- Si- Simon," the Joker picked at his scars, peeling dried skin off and flicking it away. "IF I told you never to talk, see or take care of this one ever again. What would you say?"

I squeezed his wrist, hoping he'd get the message. I want to leave, now.

He shifted weight from one foot to the other. "Sir?"

"Well?"

"I would."

They stared.

"That's what I thought," he tied a white cloth around the suppressed cut. "Let's go," and grabbed my arm along the way. "You're coming with us, learned not to leave you without a sitter. You're a magnet for hassle, not the most desirable kind." If I was the magnet, he was the magnetic iron ore.

Back in the elevator. Simon still letting me cling, the Joker watching in the corner, knowing just what I was thinking.

Simon was the closest thing I had to a friend here and that means so much more than I would like to believe. He didn't feel anywhere near as I did I'm sure. But oh god.

That's just it. I wouldn't be alone because the Joker would be with me. My vision was clear enough to see a mattress in the back room. And it wasn't made for one. That apartment was ours, not just mine.

One on the right, the other on the left. Trapped between two very dangerous, very unpredictable men. And I was about to find out just how true one could be.

"Who's waiting in the basement?" a simple question. We were descending lower and lower from floor to floor. Anyone would ask. Mistake.

Simon squeezed with such intensity, my hand then pulsating almost until he stopped the beats. He punctured the skin. With something as sharp as a nail. It hurt. It physically hurt like burning hurt. I didn't dare show it but OH GOD what is it! He wasn't fast enough to hide whatever he did from the Joker. He saw, "Hey hey hey!" and threw me to his other side, further from Simon who merely stared forward as if nothing happened. "You've gone too far! Only your superior can have these kind of benefits and that's me!"

My hand is bleeding! No, it's not bleeding, it's gushing! Oh shit shit shit! Needles jabbing beneath that tiny area of a hand. It's burning! Did he have a knife in his hand or something! I couldn't stay quiet. Moaned, screamed, shrieked in pain. The Joker simply turned, grabbed my hand in the midst of me trying to massage its throbbing skin and yanked it under his nose. "What did you do?" he asked. Out of curiosity rather than anger. He didn't care how it felt, just how something this effective could be repeated on someone else.

He kept movement to a zero but I was still jumping for my hand back. Simon, who was still ignoring us, was just frozen while the Joker examined every pigment, finger and freckle. "What is it!" screaming without purpose wasn't really helping. "Make it stop!" But it helped me.

The door binged.

Simon stepped out before blocking the doors from closing.

"Stay there, we're going to be awhile," he slid us to the floor, squatting over my legs, still trying to figure out what's happening. The only movement he allowed was my toes curling viciously behind him. Squirming helped as well.

"Simon please, what did you do!" He doesn't even acknowledge my voice. "Make it stop, please just make it stop." Tears came, rolling with incredible speed.

"If you stop yelling like a hyena, I can work faster."

Why is he so calm? So patient? He tore a piece of cloth from his wound, spread his tongue all along the material and firmly slapped it into my hand. "Oh Simon? Would you be a peach and come sit on her while I deal with our guests. I'll just be a moment dear."

"No, wait!"

Yes, I was choosing him over this deceiving beast who was already taking his place. He pulled me on his lap so fast I wasn't even able to reach out. His leg jammed up against the doors, arms tightly wrapping and face stuck forward like a Marine.

"Gentlemen! So sorry to keep you waiting. Have you got our goodies?" Other voices followed, deep voices, barely audible.

He wasn't going to budge. Leaving was useless so I simply flung my legs wildly inside this small claustrophobic box until he would have to reach out and stop them. But he doesn't. "What is wrong with you! The one day you actually open your mouth and speak- Damn it Simon, do you even- Did you even realize how important this was to me? You were a last hope- For just a small piece of sanity brought back into my life and look what happened? I can't believe I- nearly thought you could be some delusional concept of a friend. You're hurting me!"

"Then stop fighting," he covered my mouth and removed his foot from the door. They closed. But the elevator didn't move, it remained in the basement. "I need to speak to you before he comes back. So be quiet. Stop fighting me!" He was so very close to punching my stomach, his fist was formed, he even readied the plunge but stopped just before coming into contact.

I dropped instantly. He was going to hit me? Half of a body now rest on his legs which were entangled with mine which were throbbing of pins and needles which were about to pop of suffocation. Head buried in my hands, elbows digging into my right leg and his left. "Simon-" I wanted to plead for release but he slammed that idea.

"My name isn't Simon. It's Bane."

_a / n_

_Inspiration= The Dark Knight Rises of course! What else? Tho, I think I may explode for how long the wait will be tho July 20 2012. I mean really? From Tom Hardy to Joseph Gordon-Levitt to Christian Bale, who can handle that combination? ? I sure can't. Too much hot steam for me, but I'll manage xD_

_ALSO! There's a banner now for this story. I couldn't help myself. It's probably the most detailed one I've ever made so far. Take a peek, perhaps? It's pretty cool._


	4. 4479

**.**

**4**

**4479**

-18 months in the Past-

"Can someone please- Excuse me miss, do you think- I just- Hey!" A frazzled nurse with a cart of medical supplies rushed by. I fell straight to my butt just to avoid the sharp edges. The nurses and doctors maneuvered around in frenzy. I could only crawl back to the wall so as not to trip anyone. The emergency room was in complete havoc. Patients filled every room with broken bones, critical injuries of mass proportions and of course, the regulars who wanted morphine to endure their consequential lives.

"Young lady," the oldest looking nurse with frizzy white hair waved her hand widely. I was already taking baby steps towards her. Beds were in the way with screaming adults and children waiting for rooms to open up. I nearly fell into the desk as soon as I reached her. "I apologize for the mess. Downtown Gotham is even crazier out there than it is in here," she stacked papers with her left and punched stables with her right. "Some kind of powder is being sent into the air. People see each other and can only see monsters-"

A metallic sting struck my ankle in its most sensitive spot, the Achilles. One of the doctors backed into my leg with a bed. "Oh god, I'm so sorry! Sherry, get some ice for her ankle. I'm sorry, excuse me. Nurse! Get me 20cc's of opium!" He was rolling a hysterical child into a newly cleared room.

"Here, come behind the desk, it's war out there."

I clung to the scraped wound, feeling like a complete burden next to those who were truly in pain. She brought me into her little square, ignoring the growing line already forming up to the desk. She should be helping them instead of this. "Look, I'm sorry, Sherry, to be in the way-"

"Get it away! Get the flying bat away! It'll kill me. It'll kill us all! Can't you see!" a terrified young girl burst through the sliding doors, pointing frantically to the sky. Two policemen were working hard to contain her.

We both stared until they tackled her to the floor. "Yes I know. But it's alright, they have me back here because of my arthritis. I'm not as youthful as I used to be. Now, about that ice," she wobbled to another room.

"Wait, please. I don't need any ice, I'm fine. Could you just tell me where-"

"Down the hall to the left. The only door that's closed," she squeezed my shoulder kindly, urging me to the side so she could return to her desk. "I'm sorry hun, I need to help these people here. Can you make it by yourself?"

Before I could even answer, she turned her attention to another. I already distanced myself as far as I could. How would she know where I wanted to go?

"The bat is coming! It's coming for us. We have to kill it! We have to stop it before it kills us all! He's coming for you!" a boy with gray dilated pupils pointed towards me in delirium. I quickened pace, grasping the corner before racing down another hallway. Bruce said nothing of these side effects, nothing of being seen. If downtown was worst than we thought, infected by Scarecrow's compound, than that put Bruce in even more danger. People were seeing fear. Monsters were people, people were killing monsters and one of the monsters was a visual reality of mine. What will they do if they see him as Batman? To make matters worse, Rachel was still in the middle of it all.

We may have not been speaking but she should be here instead of out there which is exactly where I was not but a few hours ago. Just before the poisonous gas was released, Bruce kicked my door off its hinge, snatched me before I could even understand he was inside and threw us into the armored car. The moment we sped away, the atmosphere was already consumed. I begged for him to go back but he wouldn't until we, meaning just me of course, were out of range and far from the effects.

Gotham General was a few miles beyond the compound's spread and was the only place I could think of to wait for it to clear. I can't explain why, only that I wanted to get out of the car so he could hurry back to get Rachel.

This isn't the waiting room.

I glanced back out to the halls, more people were piling in, few were able to run from being under constraint and charged this way. I quickly shut the door as they ran past. Their eyes glazed over. There were too many, some now blocking the door.

The only window was shut, blinds twisted tight. I had to use both hands to undo them. I just wanted to see what was happening out there. But there was nothing. Nothing was covered by a huge dense curtain of haze. It didn't reach this area but you could still see the breakage point. Small, abnormal hues of lightning swarmed around the edge.

Crane's personal addition to the mix. Bruce said only those just outside the boundary would be able to witness its frightening splendor.

Where is he in that cloud?

The league should have been found by now. He should have stopped them. Any second, he'll pass this door with Rachel, I'll run out to them and we'll go to a safe place. Besides the manor, my apartment or Rachel's. The League of Shadows set fire to Wayne Manor before letting the toxins loose. The only places left were the batcaves. There were seven locations established in cases like these. We'd most likely go to the East Batcave. It hadn't been used since the gasoline crisis. Wayne Enterprises moved all its holdings offshore decades ago and Bruce set the cave up just beneath the floorboards.

One of the health monitors began beeping rapidly as if warning of something. I knew what it was but debated on whether to fix it or not. This wasn't my place. A young man, in his late twenties, was asleep on the hospital bed. Long strips of gauze covered his mouth and cheeks, letting the skin heal gradually without interference. A burn victim possibly? His arm was bent which meant the IV couldn't get to the rest of the body. The monitor would beep multiple times to warn the nurses outside. But the halls were full, still emulating a crazed jungle. No one was going to come.

All they would have to do is set his arm straight. But the nurses are too distracted and the blockage could get worst.

I left the window, the lightning bolts still creating their fireworks show, and stood over the bed. His disheveled mane of blonde curls were smooshed against the stiff pillow, all the strands stuck to his skin from a moist scalp. The IV didn't extend as far as it should, so his arm was forced to rest across his abdomen. The gauze was doing its job, soaking the body fluids along with dried and new blood absorbed beneath. He couldn't have been hurt in the city, this room was his long before the league arrived to Gotham. I held his wrist as gently as I could and moved it to the side of his body, but not before glancing at the identity tag.

JACK N. PATIENT _ PT 0608191

AD 10/12/2007 _ MR 356129

RM#G107 _ M _ DOB 04/04/1979

Only twenty-eight and he's strapped in like a prisoner. The IV's tangled from being neglected for a long period of time. Either that or they've been skipping his room for other reasons.

"What are you doing in here?"

I dropped his hand.

"I'm- I was looking for the waiting room but-"

"It's alright, you don't have to explain. I know how crazy it is out there," a nurse with short black hair and striking blue eyes walked in. She stole a quick glance at my jacket, noticing its masculine appearance, before unclipping the chart and skimming through it. "You're obviously not a visitor of his-"

"No, this was an accident. I can go if you like-"

"Oh please child, don't worry about it. Been a long day for me too. The waiting room's full anyway. So if anyone comes in here just say you're family alright? I'll back you if it comes to that, but it won't. We're too busy to even tie our shoes, which is why you see me walking like an infant. These laces have been untied all day. You alright?"

Her voice faded out long before I even realized there was a question after. The window took all focus and mind again. "No, not really."

She nodded, understanding part of why I was uneasy. We all were.

"You have someone out there don't you? I feel you, just try not to worry too much. It'll take all of you with it," she snapped the clipboard back to the end of the bed. "If he wakes up, which probably won't happen, he's too drugged to even dream. But if he does, you don't have to explain who you are or why you're in here. Won't make no difference to him since he won't understand any of it. Just make yourself comfortable. Rest in that couch there if you like. He hasn't had any visitors so far and probably won't ever have. I'd keep you company if I could, but I've already stayed too long."

She started to leave but intentionally took her time as if she wanted me to keep her from going back out. So I asked the only thing that came to mind. "What happened to him?"

She opened the door a crack before slamming it shut. A policeman was thrown by a patient wanting to tear his paper dress off. "Jesus," she snapped her hand back. "I don't get paid enough for this. I'm-" breathed deep before shaking her head. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Another person we couldn't see, banged the door with a heavy object. Someone soon contained them by kicking the door to bring them down. We both jumped from the noise. I didn't want to be in this place any more than she did but we both knew this was the only public building not housing those of higher status. The mob and government officials were safe in their private skyscrapers, leaving the rest of us without proper shelter.

"I uhm," catch up heart. "I wanted to know what happened to him," I pointed to the bed childishly. She took a large step away from the door. Anything to stall.

"We're not sure. The police found him in an old apartment. The landlord called them from the rent being overdue. They found him in the bathroom under the sink, knocked out. Each side of his-" she motioned a smile with her fingers. "Cheeks were sliced open. They put 'unknown cause' on their reports. But really, a razor with his blood was found, he's probably more than capable in hurting himself, so the answer is obvious. It's not an official statement, but I believe it was self-inflicted."

"Why would you think he's capable?"

Screaming from new admittances blocked it out. They must have him under heavy sedation if he can sleep through all this. These walls are thinner than paper and war is just beyond.

"Great, just great. I have to go now or it'll never happen. Stay safe you hear?" She left.

In college, I took medical classes thinking that's what I wanted to do, but the whole know-everything-about-science part of being in the medical career didn't work out. Though, for one of our assignments, we had to spend time doing volunteer hours at local hospitals. I was forced into the psychiatric, meaning Arkham Asylum unfortunately, when I would rather be in a normal hospital in a pediatric ward, for research. Changed my major actually, for not being able to request another department.

During one-on-one sessions in the female correctional facility, I had to differentiate between those hurting themselves for serious deviant reasons and those who just wanted attention.

If the police reported differently than what the staff believe, maybe I could clarify this issue. Might as well do something. If I look out the window again I swear, I'll have to chain myself not to jump. I've already lost all these nails to teeth.

The medical tape keeping the gauze down was practically a second skin. But he didn't have much facial hair, so it shouldn't hurt too much if I lift it up. Just to make my own observation.

I stood over him again, reaching for the tape, peeling it back and taking everything in. Black stitches lined the laceration in tracks. Might have been done less than a week ago. The surgeon or whoever stitched him up was extremely careful yet very quick. The bandage was still covered in fluids, obviously hasn't been changed in awhile. But from not being renewed and my moving it around to see the other side, it all came off. And there was the other wound.

The way it was torn, almost like he wanted to endure the pain and savor the moment from how careful it was created. As softly and gently as I could, I outlined the entire curve. The texture nearly pushed me towards going over the stitches. If I knew how tightly they were pulled or how loose, I could determine how long it would take to heal such a severe condition. But I needed to stop because I knew. From what I've heard, observed and the small clear razor cuts stretching along a few of his fingers and knuckles, the answer was right there. As well as the sides of the two writing fingers being bruised from holding a metal razor pen with a very hard grasp. How could they miss this?

He did it.

It was self-infliction.

"HEY!" a guard, with a pulsing black eye and fury written across his muscles, was at the door, holding a law baton tightly in front of him. "What do you think you're doing? This isn't some sideshow!"

"No sir, I was- I'm, family-"

"You're lying, get out! We have enough going on to have you in here feeling up the patients-"

"No! God no sir, I wasn't-"

"Get out!"

"Renee!" Bruce slammed into the opposite side of the door, nearly knocking over the guard.

No further discussion here, I was already by his side and he was already pulling me to him. "Is she with you?"

"Yes," he tapped his shoulder roughly before guiding us towards the exit.

"Hey!" the guard yelled, before being tackled by another.

The nurse from earlier watched us flee past. I wanted to stop and tell her what I discovered but Bruce was more determined to get out. Someone will eventually take a closer look at the details. They'll see the purpose, the evidence across his hands and face. Especially with his bandages off, they'll see.

We burst through the doors. The sky was clear, the aftershock was heavy and the silver Lamborghini waited in the no parking zone. The reflective doors swung open vertically. I slid inside, my knees bent under awkwardly and hands pouring with sweat. As if knowing I had already passed, the door shut soon after. And exactly after, Bruce was revving the engine.

"Where is she!" I squeezed his arm, scanning the backseat frantically.

"She's safe, waiting for us in one of the underground bunkers with Alfred-"

"Oh god," I clung to my chest. "Thank you," and breathed. "What happened? Are you alright? Where's Ra's? The league-"

"Everything's fine. I took care of them. It's over," I believed every word but couldn't stop. Nothing was going to help the anxiety unless I truly knew they were never coming back. "But I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

"Let go of my arm or we'll be right back in the emergency room."

I did. He smiled. I frowned.

"And stop biting, nothing's going to happen. They're gone, you're okay and I'm okay-"

"No. Those people are not okay. Your home is not okay. _I_ am not okay! I was going out of my mind! Why didn't you tell me this would happen? It was not just a 'simple drug' wandering through the air Bruce, people were seriously hurt. They were killing each other! Not to mention how many times I've heard about the bat! They were raving about killing you and I was starting to believe they succeeded-"

"They didn't," he skimmed the curve before speeding back up to 80. Stating the obvious was not what I needed. His hand moved blindly between us, searching for mine. I quickly caught it, held tightly and forced him towards me, knowing the car would switch to auto. "Renee-" ready to scold for such a dangerous act but I closed his mouth with mine. An uncontrollable ripple of breaths followed as soon as we broke.

I almost couldn't from how unsteady my lips were. Shivering with strident tremors. "No holding back anymore Bruce. I'm done with this shield you put up every time something happens. I don't care how horrible or devastating the effect will be. I need to know exactly what you're going after and what that means for you and those you're protecting."

"Alright," he leaned his forehead into mine. "But as long as you do the same."

"The same? I'm not the one who prances around with bat ears and pushes beyond what I'm capable-"

"You know about Bane."

Broke further apart.

"What?"

"That night. You were down in the cave when he was there. All this time, you've known about him and you didn't say a word. He knows who I am and he's probably the most threatening adversary Gotham will ever have, you know all of this. And yet, you were there after he followed me."

"Why are you doing this?"

"You want me to be honest, fine. But I'm not doing it if you're not going to."

This has nothing to do with anything. He wasn't going to let go, he wanted an answer.

Where's the actual purpose of this conversation?

"I didn't see his face. I don't know who he is, I just heard his voice-"

"That's not what I'm asking-"

"You let him go. After everything he's done- Someone smarter and stronger than god himself. Someone who could ruin everything you've done, everything you're going to do and you let him go."

He turned away, clicking the automatic off and focusing on the road. "There's more to it than you understand. Than you _can_ understand."

I merely stared. Lost with words, forgetting about what I was trying to say, the imperceptible entrance opened for us to drive through. The dimmed lanterns lined the way to the cave.

_A/N_

_And this is where the DeviantArt comes to play once again. It's hard to see, but very meaningful. Once you click on the picture & make it huge, Bottom Left, you shall understand._

_Hint: _"_As well as the sides of the two writing fingers being bruised from holding a metal razor pen with a very hard grasp. How could they miss this?_"

_In case you missed it._

_- e v i d e n t i a l - p r o o f -_

_xD_


	5. This or That

**.**

**5**

**This or That**

He held his forehead as though a headache was beneath. "I don't expect you to understand," and jerked back into the bronze wall, dark blue stare was practically liquefying mine. "It was just a quick jab from my pocket knife. Hurting you was the only way I could have another chance. He's not going to leave you alone, not with me or anyone. You shouldn't have run to me. You should have stayed by him."

He couldn't be Bane. He didn't fit. But then I saw it. He _is_ who he says. Why haven't I noticed before. They were right there.

Black, very close to a dark hue of purple, stained his inner arms. The veins were flowing with small ink-like rivers traveling all the way up in diverse paths. Paths nonetheless, straight to every muscular vessel in his body. And they weren't just temporary stains, they were permanent, beneath the skin.

I crawled away, pulling him with me. I nearly took both of us down if he hadn't prevented it with balance. And there they were. So close, so clear. He was letting me look. For chance, I examined more, gently massaging them to finalize the texture, the feel, the appearance. My god. He was waiting for a response but I couldn't find any other way to say this.

"I know you Bane."

He pulled back, slamming into the wall hard enough to reopen the doors.

"You were supposed to get out of the elevator not take a nap in it," the Joker stood on the other side, a black SUV zooming to the exit in the background. "Get out and help the others with these." He stepped aside, trying to snap his fingers but didn't take the time to create the sound.

He briskly pushed, not enough to piss off those who were watching but rough enough to say, "we're not finished." I knew him, he knew me, we both needed something from the other. But I had no clue as to what they both were.

I sprung out after him. Too fast. Bumped into the Joker before actually falling over three heavy boxes stacked high. There was something extremely valuable and extremely heavy in each one. The Joker kicked the side of one of the boxes before kneeling down. I could only stare in silence, an inch closer and they would have crushed me. "Didn't I tell you to move these!" he shout towards two clowns but was really directing it to Bane who merely stared. If only I had such talent for suppressing all visual emotion.

"Up we go," he scooped under my arms. "And as for you three, take the merchandise upstairs. And by stairs, I mean take them. Elevator's VIP only. So, if you'd excuse us gentlemen, need some quality time with the missis here." He grabbed the same hand still wrapped in his already used gauze and waddled us back inside. Never, after the count of 17 days since it happened, the wedding, the break, the fall- did he ever refer to me as his- anything. And now that he has, it's officially become real.

The last thing I saw before he blocked the view was Bane. Easily lifting one of the boxes tucked beneath his arm, nonchalant. "If you're done admiring your precious body guard, it's time to take notice of the real thing. And by real thing, I mean the thing of which you are _married_ to," he does a quick head shake. "I do love the ring to that, don't you? Oh! Speaking of rings, have you even taken notice to yours?"

I already knew the answer before he was going to blurt it out. He took his ring while I slept one night. I could only guess it was because he was still angry with me, but he's too unpredictable to ever be certain. "I bet you haven't. But you see, you don't get it back until you earn it. You haven't been, how should I say, a good dame. If you can recall back to the honeymooning days, you tried to damage this piece of art when it was just this canvas that wanted to be painted on by his colorful paint. After all, it is an artist's right to create whatever he wishes on his canvas correct? Especially when the paint was bought, paid for and sold by him?"

He smiled proudly by the obvious effect it had on me. I just stared. Whether he thought it was out of fear or confusion, even I couldn't tell.

But what he meant was obvious. It was visually struck across his face and mouth twitching.

Floor 76.

No light. It was too dark to run. We were already inside, walking past the kitchen, past the boxes and into another room. I didn't know this room. This room had no walls, just windows. The entire city was just outside. An even grander view than sitting on the edge of the building. The sky was the city and the city were the stars.

I pressed my palms flat onto the cold glass, peering down. Everything could be seen. Border to border, river to river. Where were we?

"Silent are we?" his mouth was hot on my ear.

I jumped, nearly slammed into the window but he pulled away. "And today's total graceful incidents comes to a record forty!" He rammed four fingers between our faces, squinting before counting his fingers over. "Alright, alright, four is still one too many lollipop. You know what I do when I have days like these?" He walked backwards, taking me with him. Each step he'd pull, I'd nearly fall into him and then he'd suddenly advance forward which I would have to retreat. Over and over he repeated this. "Dancing. And look at this, didn't even have to tell you and you're already taking the lead."

More like trying to get away.

But he pulled hard, making me fall into him again which he then took us across the floor in a tango swing. Around and around, stopping abruptly just as we were right back where we started. He moved so fast, I had to look down to see what had just happened. He had somehow placed my feet on top of his before we stopped. His hand pressed into my lower back, fingers spread like spider legs. His left held mine straight out like ballroom dancers did just before twirling rapidly. I breathed deep. Stop thinking. Stop trying to get away. It's not going to happen.

"You know," he lowered his head slightly, linking us together. The side of his cheek now covered my ear, green hair blending into mine. A grim shade of holiday spite. "The only people I've ever seen dance like this are little girls with their hair in tight coils and their papas towering over them. The only way they can keep the whole dance smooth is by hoisting their little brats on top of their feet. Otherwise they just go all tantrumy because they don't want to dance _properly_." He squeezed tighter, his ribcage was practically digging into mine we were so close. The space between each rib could almost be filled in by one of ours. I don't understand why his should be as exposed as mine. Bane was the only one who knew how bad it's gotten. I just couldn't find it in myself to eat. He would bring the food, I'd nibble on it, he'd eat the rest just to show I had.

Why would he be deprived as well? Still swaying side to side. I tried to move, blinking away the green curls that had escaped but he squeezed again.

A small cry rose. But he couldn't hear it over the tune he was humming. "Oh yes I know, it makes me all shrill too. Here I am comparing us to papas and their little mamas and we're married!"

The same fear from that night had already grown stronger. I knew what he was doing the moment he leaned into my ear. He was wrapping my hair around and around into a giant twist, an easier grab. As soon as we stopped swaying, he squeezed its ends and pulled back. "This would be called incest," the further he pulled, the more I tried to lessen the pull. Now off his feet, an arm's length from each other, he let go of my hair and the other hand. Whatever Bane did, I was starting to feel it again. I highly doubt a pocket knife could cause this much pain. The gauze was stuck to him now. He just wiped it off his pants as if it were nothing and tried to grab a hold again. But I smacked him away.

I'm not doing this. He must be upstairs by now. I can sprint, race up them, meet him and make him tell me what he's not. Going past the doorway would be the hardest challenge.

"Don't," he glanced at the door, if it's possible they've turned black. "The only direction you're going is my way. You took something of mine and I want it back."

"I didn't take anything-"

"What did I just say!"

I looked back again. That's all I did. I wanted to run but couldn't. It's exactly as he put it, I should have never run to him when the Joker had me under. This is punishment.

"You see this rather large and dark bruise in the shape of a hand? _Your _lovely hand?"

He drew an outline across his neck, showing where it should be, making a choking motion. This had nothing to do with what I thought, this is what I've been waiting for. I wouldn't have been able to stop if Bane hadn't come in and he knows that.

"There's nothing there," voice cracked.

"Nothing. _Nothing_? You've been in Lala land too long. Too long to miss its beauty. It was glorious! Stretched long, the perfect hue of a bruise, you did good. Better than this," the scars opened wide with his gaping lips. "But then again, this little mind of mine blocked that experience out. Don't remember much of the pain, such a pity. But you. _Oh_ you, did some damage. More damage than I could have ever done. I applaud you. We truly are made for each other."

All the things I was going to say and do never came. It's not going to be as I imagined. This should have happened long before now. "What are you going to do?"

Tilts head, wild eyes, quivering lips forming into a maniacal grin. "You already know."

We moved again. An invisible string directing us back into the dance, only I was willing. The answer came to mind, I _did _know. But I also knew the unpredictable tang always on the tip of his tongue. When he says one thing, drives the idea into your mind until it cracks, he does another. "No," I was in his spot, he was in mine. Further from the door, further from help. "I know nothing."

"You seem to be favoring that word, _nothing._ But you see, you're not nothing to me. You're everything! The moon, the stars, the little specks of dirt under fingernails. Can't live without those now can we?"

I could only swallow and choke on the response.

"Turn around," he didn't wait. Reached out, spun twice before yanking me hard into his chest. From my hips across my stomach, he moved his hand higher and higher until briefly grazing the bodice. Making little designs above the jeweled belt, small circles and swirls. He wanted to go further, there was nothing in his way and yet he doesn't. Instead he takes us straight to a large window that had no glass to keep anything in. It was just a wide open frame, broken shards lined the border as if he broke it himself. He did break it himself.

"Can you see?" his tongue slid across his lips, touching my ear as well. "No? Too dark isn't it? Let's get closer."

We stopped a few steps away from the edge. And there it was, the answer I've been wanting to know for weeks.

We were in Cape Carmine. Gotham River covered the back, the city covered the front. Once an abandoned lighthouse. Something happened long ago that damaged the building. The light was removed and the top three floors were bulldozed and never used again. But for a reason the city didn't understand, it kept growing and growing into an even taller structure. Only a few knew why, including Bruce. It belonged to Bane. This entire building belongs to him. A hideout, an escape. The very edge of the frame was now less than a step away and yet he was still pushing.

"What are you doing!"

The wind shot up. He leaned his shoulder into the frame while I was left in the middle. Only one arm was holding my life from its falling death. I quickly looked to him, he was already on me. "The only way we can be free is if we say bye bye to our old lives." I tried to cling to something, anything but the only thing was him. I didn't care, I snatched a fistful of his jacket. He doesn't falter even with how hard I pressed into his side, he moved more.

"Stop! Pull me back!"

"Shh!" We stopped. I secretly grabbed the other side of the frame, somehow getting a grip between two large glass shards. There was no ground, I couldn't see the bottom. We were so high. "Time to make a choice," from the waist up I was completely out, leaning over the incredible distance below. He said something else but I couldn't hear over my own screams. "Hey!" he jerked back, face to face. I was crying now. The glaze of water made his face a blurred white mess. "There's no reason for those salty tears. I'm not even hurting you, just making a point. Now back out you go. The sooner you obey the faster you can come back in. We have much to do."

"PLEASE!"

He slowly removed his shoulder, leaned as far as he could and spoke. "_This or that_?"

The top glass piece was cutting into my hand. Don't scream, don't you dare scream.

"THIS or THAT!"

I don't understand! He's letting go! Oh god say something!

"THIS!"

He pulled back, further and further until simply dropping me to the floor. Before I could do anything, he squat over my legs and pinned me into him.

"Good choice."

_a / n_

_They finally released a picture of what Bane will look like in the Dark Knight Rises. I knew Christopher Nolan was going to come out with something entirely different than I imagined. But, I'm still going with how I'm portraying him. Ruggedly gorgeous, black spiked hair and so on like Tom Hardy should be. Just fyi._


	6. Influence Thy Veins

**.**

**6**

**Influence thy Veins**

There it lay. Specks of black filth outlining each precious jewel, layers of grime covering any hint of sparkle, the perfect reminder of how it all turned out. The wedding dress. Ruined undoubtedly. Black sweats and a white blouse replaced its memory. Now, I'm dressed in this prison attire. What would matter?

He's not here to witness this. That mattered. I think I've ripped this dress to the brim from how pathetically I've clung to it.

It was just the way he kept still. The way he leaned over my legs after I had agreed to the choice he forced. Squinting through the black. He was making a decision I couldn't see but knew it meant revisiting something long forgotten. There may have been an intimate suggestion there but wasn't serious enough to cause womanly fear. There was something else much more troubling in those thoughts. He had already made a choice.

I was so absorbed in trying to figure out what he was doing that I hadn't noticed the vague image of a shadow behind. Why it wasn't him knocking me unconscious when just moments ago he held me out of a seventy story building, is beyond me. But whoever did, succeeded with impressive rank. And now, here I lay next to the crumbled-looking wedding dress. Alone with one thought. How this dress came to be set neatly beside me when obviously, I'm in another set of clothing.

He dressed me. This lifeless material was unzipped and replaced by his hands into this rather ordinary attire. But he saw the intimate slip beneath, he lifted it overhead and obviously viewed the laced bra and panties graciously covering naked parts. All the while I lay unconsciously while he slid the black sweatpants on one leg at a time, grazing his touch over an extremely personal area while doing so and lastly, draping the white blouse over my strapless bra. Each detail of what most likely happened repeated over and over until I couldn't take the feel or breath of it anymore. But then I saw it.

The new mattress I had seen before was just beneath me. He _did_ everything, every detail my imagination and memory recalled and possibly much more. He carried me here to _our_ apartment, completely capable of doing so since Bane so painfully informed me of never being in his company again. Which meant he wasn't here to do the heavy lifting. Whoever hit me unconscious had left shortly after and the Joker took control of everything. The carrying to this room, the unveiling of my poor wedding dress and the being alone after realizing he had truly done all of this himself. And my imagination took on the rest, rapidly displaying unfortunate scenarios. I might as well be naked from the shame of knowing I was a playable doll for him throughout the night.

The effect did more damage than he probably wanted to strive for. I was utterly dismayed, barely able to breathe and about to fall apart. Until I realized something, he did this all before. In the shower, when I was down to just a bra and underwear, he undressed me. When I thought that experience would never be beaten, how naïve. But he did take off my clothes. I didn't have time to think of the horrors he could have done then. I shouldn't be reacting like this. But from what happened before, thinking I truly was going to be falling to my death. Splattered across the Gotham streets was far more unbearable than the fact that he merely changed my clothes. Something else though, beyond what I should be thinking about, surfaced.

It made me sick but I knew, for the sake of knowing, I needed to.

There was nothing to prove that he- There was no soreness or pain where he could have- He didn't-

Enough. That's more than I can handle. He didn't. Leave it at that.

But he was now in the other room where a bright light gleamed beneath the door. His voice had been in the air this whole time, only it's taken me this long to hear it.

What was he saying?

Directions.

He was giving directions. To who?

I was only ever going to be alone with him from now on. No one interfering. No one visiting. Including Bane.

"You put this here, see? Here. Not there! With all that intelligence bulging inside that thick skull of yours, you'd think this would be easy peasy. Work with me, alright just put it there. There. Wait! Forget it, just go get her. You can do that I'm sure?"

The dress nearly crumbled into permanent wrinkles from how fast I moved. Bane stood in the doorway as though his sight was readjusting in slow pace. He then closed the door, walked in and knelt down to the height of my knees. Crawling away was the most convincing option. But the moment I decided, he slapped his hands down and clasped each knee cap hard.

"I know what I said earlier. Forget it. Forget everything we talked about. Don't speak my name, don't bring any recognition, I'm Simon to you understand? If you so much as utter Bane, I'll send you through that window without holding back. I don't have the control he has for you. _Simon_, not Bane, nod your head."

I already was, a speaking response would be asking too much and he knew it. _Control_? We've already been through this. Maybe once, before Harvey's life was at stake but not anymore. He _was _serious. I've never seen him so involved, especially for such an issue as this. He meant what he said and he showed it from how hard he squeezed. The bones beneath even moved.

"Good. You're going out there now. But I need to carry you so go limp, act like you're still asleep. I don't want him to think we spoke."

I only stared, at least I could breathe again. These scenarios are not helping.

"Do it now or I'll knock you unconscious again."

What?

He lift his hand with a much faster reflex than I would like to see. But it brought an immediate understanding. I fell back towards the mattress as though he had already struck hard. Didn't make it all the way though, he grabbed me before I even knew his arms were near.

He knew about the broken window? The leaning? Then he must have carried me up here. Still, the Joker wouldn't let him go as far as watching, would he? The situation stays the same yet knowing that he was there after that incident and before I was undressed brought an even more shameful feeling.

"Don't open your eyes until I set you down. Try to do it casually if you can."

I was planning to. In fact, strangely enough, I was fine with this. Since the start, every time I was placed in his arms, forced over his shoulder or even carried unconscious, there was just something about it all that made me feel comfort. An unusual type of reassurance.

What I felt before was almost gone. The adrenaline, the realization, hyperventilation. It's amazing the things you could adjust to, even if it comes from this man currently kneeling and setting me on a stiff couch. Couch?

"Congratulations, you're a master at moving things. Now get back to this before I stab myself again with one of your puzzle pieces."

I shouldn't have listened. I should have kept my eyes closed. Because right there, in the middle of the room was something I could only describe as a device built for nothing less than a deadly purpose. A device that has never been seen by those outside a trusted mound, which I regrettably am a part of now. Bane was already stepping in to where the Joker held a thin, metallic tube away from his person as though it were a snake.

"Careful, it bites," a simple smirk met Bane's neutral concentration. It didn't matter to him whether the Joker was now noticing who it was he plopped on the couch and who had almost suffered a nervous breakdown by which he eased into nothing the moment he entered the room.

"Well look who I got here," a mere shriek wouldn't suffice the need to express something for what he just did. Leaped over my head, plopped on top of the couch, dangled his right leg over my stomach before pinning me deeper into cushions. He squat over, lifted me upright where he then slid to the bottom cushion and brought me snugly into his chest as though it were a baby in his possession instead of a frazzled and remarkably confused person.

"Did you see what I just did? Because there's no way I could ever replicate that move again even for you my sweet," he marveled at himself for a moment before looking down at the increasingly bashful position I was in. "You seem comfortable. Sleep well?"

Don't.

A controlled nod.

"Really? I would think the contrary. It was a rather eventful night. Can't say that you would remember seeing as though you were dead tired but I can't seem to forget it."

Don't let him get to you. It's exactly how he planned it. Wake up alone, look over newly placed clothes, endure his own nostalgic, restricting way of reminding you, just relax. You know the truth. This is one punishment that won't be added psychologically.

"I need you now," Bane hammered a thick nail into the arm of the device with a splitting crack.

The Joker casually looked up, showing no anger for the interruption and merely moved forward as though commanding a _get up_ which I instinctively did so. It wasn't until now that I could define what he had been working on.

A chair.

The device was a chair surrounded by hundreds of lengthy tubes with unspeakable substances inside. Thick liquids which seemed to move almost like it were breathing.

The Joker didn't motion towards it nor did he force movement, he only walked ahead and helped Bane with the final piece. They both struggled but slammed the last nail into the adjacent arm. Bane then dropped the hammer, moved behind the chair and fidgeted with something I couldn't see. But soon found out.

There were only three windows that lined the wall but they were enough to show what happened after. The entire eastern coast of Gotham had blacked out. Including this building. There was silence. Only for a few seconds until all the lights, every building, every street lamp, erupted with a lightning bolt of energy before dimming back to the way it was before. But the highest energy bolt was in this very room, just one quick flash of light but enough to force the device into life.

"That was to be expected," Bane circled the other side and crossed his muscles into his chest.

The Joker smiled. "It's alive! It's alive- Alright alright, sit down already Simon. Don't just stand there looking proud of yourself. This energy won't last. Renee," he cocked his head to where I once stood only to find I had distanced myself a bit. They both looked.

Behind the farthest end of the couch.

"What just happened!" I clung hard to the fabric, ready to rip it off and somehow use it against them. I don't have a sharp mind at the moment. "What was that? What is this thing!"

"Now now Renee," Bane stayed where he was, glued to the Joker who had moved closer. "I told you we had a lot to do didn't I?"

"You mean before or after you tried to throw me out a window!"

He stopped. "Oh please, it was just to make a point, you always take these things too far."

"_Too far_? Too far! Maybe I should have launched myself out the building, taken you with me and saved a lifetime of going too far!"

"Yes, that would have helped a lot of future problems but that time has past. You had your chance. Now come here so we can get this over with."

"Get what over with!"

Bane moved before we could have it out further or an explanation could be made. He charged the floor, flung his arm tight around my waist, lifted high, practically flew us back across and nearly collided into the already active wires while setting me onto his lap.

The Joker moved just as fast, only he stopped himself just before Bane's knee and my dangling legs. We were sitting in the chair. "You see, that's what I like about you Simon, you always know how to make things happen. But if you grab her like that again, I'll set the dial to nuke-the-ape got it? Now! Let's get started shall we?"

I try not to be hysterical but there are some things you just can't control. "WAIT! Please wait! What's going to happen? Why am I on here? Let me off! Let me OFF! NOW!"

"Simon, if you would be so kind as to answer my wife's question?"

Wife? No no no this is not the time to bring that up. The Joker knelt in front of us and tampered with one of the wires. Squeezing his hand over my ankle as if he knew what he did. The wires and tubes closest to my head collided into each other, responding to whatever it was he's doing. Why would he even let Bane keep me here let alone in this position? He wouldn't. Something isn't right. Something- I want off!

"Renee!" I snapped to Bane. He had obviously been repeating my name for quite sometime by the look on his face. If they do something to me, I swear I'll scream Bane so loud, the deafening roar of it would shatter the glass. Maybe then I could take that one chance back before he could follow through with the threat he said before. He knew I was more than fearful yet his voice was gentle. "I just need you to be here. It won't hurt so stop with the hysterics."

I choked. Does he really think-

"The venom."

And there it was. He knew I would understand, he knew it and showed nothing of the reason. His strength is multiplied beyond any man's capacity because of the one militarized serum, code-named _venom_. Engineered to make him who he is, Bane. And the Joker handed him the one thing I was most familiar with. The mask. Four thin metal breathing pipes lined the area where his upper lip would be and spider-like duplicates spread out along the bottom.

He was getting another dosage. This massive device is just a way for him to receive a dosage of venom? But why do I need to be here? I don't want to be here.

"I want you to be here."

"Why?"

"It's the only way I can remove the mask."

"I don't-"

"I need human contact to prevent complete dependency on the mask after the serum is evaporated into gas and inhaled. Don't ask why. It's just the way it's always been since I could function without it," he snatched the mask from the Joker who moved around us and stood before a distrustful-looking switch. "It was either going to be you or him and I'd rather you be on my lap than a 180 pound man. Alright?"

"Will it hurt you?" If an electric shock gets sent through him or something goes wrong, I'll be the first to know.

It was quiet yet they both heard. He stiffened slightly, fidgeting to a straighter posture, raising me higher as well. "Sometimes," an even smaller response than mine. The mask lowered over his mouth and nose could have muffled it yet I knew that wasn't the case. Before he could cue the Joker, the switch was already snapped on.

_A/N_

_Don't punish me for my lateness, you have it now, so just- Hey! No biting!_

_So.. I made another DeviantArt. Yes I did. Look?_

_It's pretty schnazzy I must say. Especially with Bane in the mix. Without a shirt. Shirtless. You really want to see it now eh? Run to it! No disappointment guarantee, possibly._


End file.
